


The Competition

by LadyRamora



Category: FFXIV, Final Fantasy XIV, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers - Fandom
Genre: Crystal Exarch Questions Life Decisions, Emet-Selch Won't Admit He's Pining And Has Been For Thousands Of Lifetimes, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, M/M, Other, Two Old Men Try To Woo WOL/D, Warrior Of Light Deserves Nice Things, Warrior Of Light Is Tired, eventual OT3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRamora/pseuds/LadyRamora
Summary: The Courtship of The Warrior of Light. Or that time when Emet-Selch and the Crystal Exarch fought over The Warrior of Light and decided to compete for their affections. There's definitely no tension or UST between them, none whatsoever. (Just kiss already, damn.) Emet-Selch/Crystal Exarch, Emet-Selch/WoL/Crystal Exarch. Eventual OT3.
Relationships: Emet-Selch/G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Emet-Selch/G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	The Competition

“How sweet you both are,” the sneer in that voice is what makes the Exarch turn, startled from his far-off wistful gazing. “It makes my teeth ache.” 

A smile quirks at his lips. “Does it? Or is it only that you grind your teeth as you watch in your jealousy, lurking in the shadows?”

Emet-Selch slinks from the shadows with a golden eyed glower. “Jealousy?” The Ascian scoffs. “You are mistaken.”

The Exarch leans on his staff, humming softly with that same smile. “Am I? I do not think I am.” He had witnessed for himself how the Ascian seemed to always find their Champion when they were alone. Seeking their company. Trading barbs. Had seen with his own eyes, watching in the Ocular, the softening of Emet-Selch. In those hard, tired golden eyes. The barest hint of a smile at his lips aside from when he was mocking. The way he stood close, and how he stared after them in just the same manner he, himself, had just been. 

“Admit it, Emet-Selch,” the Exarch taps his staff, pointing the business end toward the Ascian as he saunters closer in that lazy, hunched stroll of his. “You’ve grown fond.”

Emet-Selch’s lips curl, nose scrunching as if he had smelled something foul. “I will admit no such thing.” 

Hm, so that was the way of it. Denial. The Exarch had wallowed in his own, when he had been a young man. But that had been so long ago then, and this was now. He was finished with denials and denying himself. 

“Oh?” His smile widens, stance relaxed as he watches the man move about the Ocular in perceived lazy boredom. “Then… if you are not, you will not mind my intentions to court their favor.” 

That gets a reaction. The Acian turns his head, golden eyes narrow of his shoulder. “Court? You?” The Ascian smiles mockingly, eyebrows furrowing as if he thought it were particularly humorous. “You, broken thing that you are, think yourself their equal?” 

Oh? So he did not consider the Warrior broken as well now? How very interesting. 

“We both are, to you, are we not?” the Exarch prods. “Surely you would not lower your esteemed self to consort with us lesser beings?” It took all he had not to laugh, smile strained through his words. 

He can see his jaw clench and teeth grind. Feel the wrath in that golden eyed stare. On his face as he withholds a snarl behind twitching lips. Ah, jealousy. A refusal to admit his opinions - and feelings! - had changed. For the Warrior of Light, if none else. 

“What will you do then?” The Ascian questions. A divert in topic, but one the Exarch allows. For now. 

He shrugs delicately. “That is for me to know. And for you to watch unfold, hidden in the shadows.” 

Emet-Selch tilts his head, his smile pitying. “You think to win their heart? Their… love?” 

The Exarch inclines his head, a fanciful smile softening his lips. “I can only hope. Though I imagine I would fair far better than you.” 

Emet-Selch bristles, straightening up from his slouch. “Make no mistake, Exarch. I could have their heart, should I but desire it. The competition would prove too much for you, I’m afraid. Frail thing that you are.”

The Exarch laughs at that. “Ah, yes, well… I am an old man. But you are far older than me. And I do believe I have a head start as I’ve already begun taking small steps. You would need to catch up if you meant to be any sort of challenge to me.”

Suddenly the Ascian is in his space, crowding close and grasping at his jaw with a white gloved hand. “Hmph,” he scoffs, examining the Exarch with scrutinizing golden eyes as he turns his chin left to right. His thumb pressing into the plump flesh of the Exarch’s bottom lip. 

“I suppose you are attractive enough,” the Ascian drawls. “For a.. lesser being.”

His heart thuds hard behind crystal. The Ascian was still unpredictable after all.

The Ascian smirks down at him. “Caught you off guard, did I? Good.” His cloth covered thumb drags over the Exarch’s bottom lip. His smirk deepening as the smaller man shivers and swallows heavily. 

He leans in, his voice taking on a silky, seductive quality that leaves the Exarch feeling more than a little nervous. What was his game?

“…Think of this as a taste of what is to come,” the Ascian says soft and dark. His thumb continuing that back and forth sweeping motion across his lower lip. The gold of his eyes blazing in intensity. “You are not ready to become more than my ally, my dear. I will best you. You and your sweet Warrior of Light.”

The Exarch’s lips part, his reply fizzling on his tongue as the Ascian laughs at him, stroking over his chin and down his throat. His smile is wicked.

“…Good luck.” 

The Ascian disappears into the swallowing dark, no longer bracing the Exarch, and the man stumbles forward two steps before catching himself with his staff.

His skin is buzzing, lips burning from the lingering feel of Emet-Selch’s scorching, branding touch.

He covers his mouth, heart stuttering in a quickened rhythm. 

Perhaps he had made a mistake in challenging Emet-Selch. 

He had only wanted the man to admit his feelings.

He had very much not intended to awaken anything in himself. 

“…Oh dear.” What had he done. He felt as wild and reckless as he did as a young man. 


End file.
